


Follow My Lead

by Hookedonapirate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, POV First Person, Sneak Preview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hookedonapirate/pseuds/Hookedonapirate
Summary: What if you followed your heart, but it led you in the wrong direction?How would you find your way back?Elisa's dream was to take the stage as prima ballerina, to follow in her mother's footsteps and dance the performance of her life. And she did exactly that. But then her dreams go up in flames, and she flees to her hometown in Waterville, Massachusetts. Now she needs a new plan. And maybe a distraction.So when her best friend, Hazel, asks her to take Zumba with her at Brooks Brothers Gym—the same gym Hazel's cousin happens to attend—she's easily persuaded. Elisa's had a crush on Christian since she was ten years old, but he's always been out of her reach. To him she's just his cousin's best friend. So when she left behind Waterville ten years ago, she also left behind her unrequited feelings. But those feelings resurface when she runs into him at the gym. She also runs into someone else. Literally. Her gorgeous Zumba instructor, Derrick Brooks.Derrick is persistent and arrogant, which Elisa finds annoying, but he challenges her in ways she doesn't expect....(Read full summary inside)
Relationships: Elisa Roberts/Derrick Brooks
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a preview of what was originally meant to be for Captain Swan, but I've recently decided to try my hand and write original fiction. The story isn't finished yet, but I've started posting on Radish Fiction as a way of motivating myself to complete the book. It will eventually become published. I will be posting the first 3 chapters on here and then you will be able to read the rest on Radish Fiction. Hope you enjoy the preview!
> 
> Massive shout outs and thanks to Allison for beta reading and to An for being my constant cheerleader and for sharing her own locker room mishap with me that inspired Elisa's run in with Derrick.

###  **Elisa**

_Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack._

The sound of home reverberates through me as I cross the Old Iron Bridge in my red Chevy Traverse, the sunlight shimmering between the steel beams of the hundred-year-old structure, dappling the creek’s surface on either side. Hazel and I always refer to it as the clickety-clack bridge because of the sounds it makes whenever we drive over it. The truss bridge spans over two hundred feet of the creek, connecting the quaint, seacoast village of Waterville, Massachusetts to its downtown. 

Waterville sits at the tip of the Cape Ann peninsula, with beautiful scenery and the Waterville Plaza, which boasts an eclectic assortment of unique shops, restaurants and art galleries. Banners stretch across the road, advertising the Main Street Market as I cruise the main drag, thinking about how little Waterville has changed over the years. 

My best friend, Hazel, owns one of the newest additions, Hazel’s Hair Designs, and my heart swells with pride for her success. It’s been her dream to open the salon since she was seven years old and learned how to French braid. The building sits on the corner of Main and Elm, across from Marco’s Pizza, where I would go with my family every Thursday night, inviting Hazel to tag along for a family-sized deep-dish pizza and cheese bread. Next door to the Marco’s is Scooped, an ice cream parlor I frequented as a paper carrier. 

Every day after school, I pedaled through town on my bike, delivering the Waterville Daily to help pay for my ballet classes. After my satchel was empty, I would use the cash I had made from my tips to buy some peanut butter fudge ice cream with all the toppings—chocolate syrup, strawberry syrup, rainbow sprinkles, nuts and whipped cream, and a cherry on top for the finishing touch. I would take my bowl of ice cream with me out to the picnic table on the boardwalk and gaze out at the ocean while I ate my delicious treat. One time, I even got ice cream cones for my father and brother and tried to bring them home while walking my bike.

That did not work out well.

It took too long to get home; it was the middle of summer, and the ice cream melted all over my hands and my favorite blouse.

My lips pull into a slight smile at the memory. I wasn’t able to smile about it then. In fact, I came home crying because I couldn’t bring my dad and brother home a treat and because I ruined my favorite blouse. But the memory makes me smile. After the ice cream incident, I brought them fudge from Something Sweet instead. 

Phillip’s Insurance is another recognizable change since my last visit. The building, which was previously a bank—the first bank I opened my own savings account with—towers over the corner of Main and Center. The owner, Ronald Phillips, is very proud of this location, as his niece, Hazel, has informed me. Few had wanted an insurance company there, but Mr. Phillips was determined to buy the building for his rapidly growing company after the bank closed down several years prior and another bank opened down the street. 

Across from Phillip’s Insurance is the Seaside Inn and Diner, a favorite of both the locals and tourists. The diner has outdoor seating, with a charming view of the Atlantic Ocean spread out wide and blue. One of the attractive features of Waterville, other than the Old Iron Bridge, is the oceanfront where the town holds most of its festivals and outdoor events. Every year on the Fourth of July, bands play on a lit-up stage, and both locals and tourists pack the oceanfront to fill their bellies with fair food from the various kiosks and catch the fireworks display over the ocean just after dusk. 

My eyes light up with curiosity when I see that the old, rundown athletic facility in the Waterville Plaza has been transformed into a much bigger building, now known as the Brooks Brothers Gym. The name _Brooks_ rings a bell, but at the moment I can't remember why.

I turn on Snowburn Avenue, a deep sense of nostalgia sitting in the pit of my stomach as I drive through my childhood stomping grounds. Not only is the house my father raised me in on this street, but also the dance studio I attended when I was young. I have to pull over to the side of the road and admire it for a moment. There’s a set of stairs which lead to the second level of the building where the studio is, and the sign still hangs above the door, just as it always has. I sadden every time I think about that studio because I miss practicing there, but I also smile at the memories.

I have loved ballet since I was five years old. My mother was a prima ballerina before she became pregnant with Ethan. She had me two years later but passed away after giving birth to me. I never had the chance to meet my mother, but when I was two, I began watching tapes of her dancing ballet on stage. My mother’s beauty, expressive dancing and how she told a story with only the intricate movements of her body, captivated me. The moment I saw her on stage on one of those tapes, I wanted to be just like her. I was a closeted dancer for four years. I would dance in my room with the door shut, not wanting anyone to scrutinize my dancing skills, only hoping my mother was watching over me. 

Ever since kindergarten, where the kids at school only seemed to notice my flaws, I’ve been paranoid about how people perceive me. Growing up, I was an ugly duckling compared to the other girls at school. I’ve always been slightly tall for my age, a trait I inherited from my father, and I’ve always had a slim frame, but I was not a girl anyone except my father and brother considered pretty. I was never bullied in the traditional sense like being shoved into a locker or made fun of—Ethan would’ve stepped in if they had—but I never felt like I belonged. My peers often ignored and neglected me, and any attempt I made to socialize with others only earned me odd looks and the cold shoulder. I felt like an outcast. And that was before I took ballet - before the dance studio soaked up most of my time. 

Before Hazel came into my life, I would walk the halls alone while every other girl in school walked with a friend, and I hated the thought of being alone. Sometimes I would find a group of girls to walk next to, imagining if my mother were looking over me, she wouldn’t think her daughter was alone. 

My older brother, Ethan, is the polar opposite of me. I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love and adore him. He’s outgoing, charismatic and good at everything he does. I often wonder if there’s anything in the world he’s not good at. There were many points in my life when I wondered if there was anything in the world _I_ was good at. My father always made sure to never leave me out of anything. In fact, he more often than not showed me favoritism over my brother, but I was a typical kid and thought he only said and did the things he did because he was my father.

When I was nine years old, I unknowingly left my bedroom door cracked open and started dancing. As I pirouetted, or at least my nine-year-old, untrained version of a pirouette, I noticed my door wide open . . . and my father videotaping me from the doorway. He still had tapes and a VCR long after DVDs became popular. Embarrassment and anger surged through me at first, but when my father lowered the camcorder, I witnessed the tears in his eyes. Setting the tape on my dresser, he told me I was talented like my mother and said he wouldn’t show the tape to anyone; he only wanted me to see what he saw. When he left, I picked up the tape and slipped it into an old VCR in my bedroom. 

Seeing myself dance with my own two eyes gave me the courage to take my first ballet class. My father was so excited, and for my birthday, he took me shopping for a leotard, tights and a pair of dance shoes and signed me up for classes at Pink Slipper Dance Studio. 

When my feet first touched the studio floor, I knew dancing was my true calling, so I made a promise to my mother—I would be a prima ballerina just like her. For hours, I worked on perfecting my triple pirouette that never turned out quite the way I wanted. Eventually, I became good— _really_ good. I’ve struggled with self-confidence all my life, but when I saw how the audience responded to my dance routines, I drew my confidence and energy from them. I always felt invisible at school, like I didn’t matter to anyone there except for my brother, but when I danced, I felt alive. I felt accepted. 

Trailing away from the curb, I continue down the road—the road that holds so many fond memories. The Phillips live directly across the road from my father’s house, and I remember when they moved in like it was only yesterday. At the time, I wasn’t interested in anything other than dancing, not even boys, but I was ten when I saw _him_. Christian Phillips. He was my first crush. But it was one-sided. 

When I said hi to him, he always said it back. However, I knew he was only trying to be polite. It wasn’t until his cousin, Hazel, moved in with them a year later when he started speaking to me. She stayed with them because her stepfather had been sexually abusing her, and CPS took her away from the home. A few days after she moved in, there was a knock at my front door and I answered it. 

Hazel politely introduced herself and shook my hand. Then she asked a question I would never forget. “Will you be my friend?”

 _I wish I was brave like Hazel,_ I thought to myself. 

Her method of making friends was peculiar to me, but knowing Hazel was Christian’s cousin who just moved in across the street, I thought my friendship with her would be a great way to get close to him. Little did I imagine my plan would go very differently. I never did get the boy, but I did gain a best friend. 

And it turned out Hazel enjoyed dancing too, but she only did it for fun. I, however, knew I wanted to be a dancer like my mother, so when I turned sixteen, I auditioned for the School of American Ballet. When I was accepted, I moved from Waterville, Massachusetts to New York City. Then, I entered the NYC Ballet through their apprentice program, where I took classes and rehearsed with the company six days a week. A year later, I was promoted to lead soloist and danced as the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker, the same role my mother had danced. Receiving the incredible opportunity and being able to dance the role of a lifetime were hands-down the highest moments of my entire life.

My father and Hazel were my biggest fans, attending each of my shows. During my earliest performances, I suffered from stage fright, but whenever I became frozen with fear, I’d think of Hazel and remember how we met. I would remember her personality and how brave she is. 

_Be brave like Hazel._

I closed my eyes and whispered, _be brave like Hazel_ to myself three times before I took the stage, as though I were Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, except I didn’t click my heels. 

I did that for each performance until I became less frightened. Eventually, being on stage gave me a rush like nothing else could. The seats were always sold out and the audience always gave me their undivided attention. Countless eyes were on me; the darkness of the auditorium always hid the audience, but I could feel the weight of their stares. 

Once the music cued up, I was no longer an ugly duckling. I was a _swan._ I danced with feather-light grace and elegance, and soared across the stage like nothing in the world could stop me. I was weightless and free and I was _alive._ I mattered there on stage in front of all the eyes watching me, people worshipped me, and I became drunk on the power they gave me. The way I danced captivated them, and for those brief moments, it felt as though no one else in the world existed. I was in the spotlight. And I loved it.

Hazel and I stayed in touch over the years, but the distance and my hectic schedule didn’t allow us the same closeness. Yet, every time I visit Waterville and meet up with Hazel, it’s like no time has passed at all.

When I pull into the driveway of my childhood home, the two-story house looks the same as it did when I lived here as a child. I kill the engine, step out of my Chevy and grab my luggage, which comprises a suitcase and a bag. I close the trunk after hauling my luggage out and suck in a deep breath, my eyes scanning the house once more.

## I’m home. _Finally._


	2. Chapter One

##  CHAPTER ONE

###  **Elisa**

“Where are you?”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”

Typical Hazel. She said she would be here ten minutes ago so we would have plenty of time to sign in and change into our workout clothes. I’m not surprised though; she’s always been one for arriving fashionably late. 

_ She’ll be fashionably late for her own funeral. _

“Okay, I’ll head in and wait for you in the locker room.”

“Thanks, Elly!”

I end the call with a sigh, tucking the phone into my gym bag before heading inside. 

_ Why did Hazel talk me into this? _ After being apart for so long, this is her idea of reconnecting—taking a Zumba class? 

If I’m lucky, powerful smells of iron and testosterone will knock me unconscious and I’ll have to miss the class.  _ Oh darn, what a tragedy that would be. _ Unfortunately, (or fortunately—depending on how you look at it; I’ve always been a glass half empty kinda gal myself) when I step inside Brooks Brothers Gym, I’m pleasantly greeted by the calming, fresh scent of sea salt which reminds me of being on the open water. I guess there are many perks to using a newer gym. 

The inside is furnished with brand new, squeaky clean equipment, and there are floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor. Rows and rows of treadmills, ellipticals, bikes and flat-screen televisions mounted to the walls take up one side of the room, and the other side hosts a variety of weightlifting machines.

I’m welcomed by a young woman behind the front desk who’s wearing a navy blue t-shirt emblazoned with the gym’s logo. I offer a polite smile, knots coiled inside my stomach as I step up to the counter; I’m not even sure why I agreed to this. I may have been a dancer, but I’ve never attended a Zumba class. Is Zumba even considered dancing? 

Once I sign in, the woman points me in the direction of the locker rooms, and I thank her before making my way through the gym, passing several weight-lifting machines. After ten years, I still recognize some faces in this town, but there’s only one face still capable of making the pulse of my heart quicken. 

It’s  _ him. _

_ Christian Phillips. _

He’s wearing a wife-beater and a pair of red gym shorts as his hands curl around the barbell, his biceps bulging as he lifts the bar above his head. I melt at the sight. 

_ Oh yeah, _ that’s why I agreed to sign up for Zumba. Hazel used him as bait, promising he’d be here lifting weights. I’ve been in love with Christian since I was ten years old. I’ve never been able to tell him this, so instead, I’ve kept it to myself all these years. Well, I’ve kept it between myself and Hazel, who’s caught me drooling over her cousin on numerous occasions. After denying it for years, I finally caved in and confessed, which I now regret because I’m forced to take this stupid class, all for a chance to see him lifting weights twice a week. 

Why does he still live in Waterville, anyway? Before Hazel informed me he was working at the insurance agency with his father, I figured he’d moved on long ago and never looked back.

I’m too enamored to realize I’m just standing there with my mouth hung open as I openly stare at Christian, practically drooling all over the new, shiny floor. Until he sits up and looks over, catching me in his gaze. 

Recognition flickers in his eyes, and a smile blooms across his face as he stands from the machine, wiping the sweat from his brow. It’s impossible to stop the flush from rising in my cheeks; it’s impossible to keep my heart from racing when he walks over to me. I partition some of my long, loose curls and twirl the ends around my finger, trying to prepare myself to talk to him. We haven’t laid eyes on each other in a long time. He looks the same as he did ten years ago, only more beefed up. But me? I’m much different now; I’m more  _ mature _ —both physically and emotionally—than the gauche, shy teenager I used to be. So I’m hoping, _ praying, _ he won’t see me as he always did—his cousin’s best friend.

“Elisa… is that you?”

I’m not sure how to respond—my palms are clammy and I’m so nervous, I may faint—so I settle for a small nod. When it doesn’t seem to be enough, I make the mistake of trying to speak. “Um… yeah… how are—how are you?” I stammer, apparently unable to formulate words, let alone a proper sentence. 

“I’m great.” His gaze moves up and down my body and he appears to be in shock. I’m not sure if his reaction is a good thing or a bad one. 

I swallow thickly under his scrutiny. 

“Wow, you look much more grown-up than the last time I saw you,” he says when his eyes reconnect with mine. “I’d give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty.”

My lips form a shy smile and I’m positive my cheeks are crimson. “Oh, that’s okay.” I’m not at all opposed to hugging him, even if he smells musty and is covered in sweat. I might even prefer him like this. 

“No, really, I smell pretty bad,” he chuckles, dragging a hand through his damp, light brown hair. “So, what brings you back into town?”

“Oh, it’s a long story,” I reply, not wishing to rehash that part of my life while I’m at the gym, no matter how much more appealing it sounds than Zumba. “Let’s just say my dancing career ended, and I returned home for a fresh start.”

Christian nods. “Ah, I see, well I’m sorry I never made it to any of your performances. Hazel always bragged about how good of a dancer you were.”

“Please, don’t apologize, it doesn’t really matter now.” I would’ve died if I had seen him at one of my performances, so it’s probably a blessing in disguise he never came to one. 

“Even so, I should have come.”

My heart flutters at the sincerity in his tone. I’m also saddened he never came, but I try not to dwell on it. “It’s fine,” I assure him, my eyes wandering aimlessly around the gym before meeting his gaze again. “Well, I should get going, I’m actually here to take a class with Hazel, and it starts pretty soon.”

“Oh yeah, Hazel mentioned she was taking Zumba with you. Well, how about a reunion dinner tomorrow night to catch up?” 

My mouth goes dry and my throat closes up. Is he asking me out on a date? “A reunion dinner?” I reiterate dumbly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. To my dismay, there’s an embarrassing crack in my voice.

“Yeah, what would you say to you, me and Hazel having dinner at Seaside, for old times’ sake?”

My heart sinks and my mouth opens as I try to hide my disappointment. 

_ Look on the bright side, Elisa _ .  _ He’s asking to spend time with you, even if you would also be spending time with his cousin… your best friend! _

“Uh, yeah… sounds great,” is all I can work up in response.  _ Geez, Elisa, pull it together. _

“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have fun at your Zumba class.”

“Okay, thanks, I’ll try.” I smile weakly and watch him walk away. 

He doesn’t even look back, only proceeds to another machine and chats with his friends.

Exhaling a long, defeated breath, I scramble toward the locker rooms, trying to shake my feelings—the feelings I’ve sidelined since I left Waterville, only to resurface the moment he walked into my life again. I didn’t think he’d have the same effect on me after all these years, but he does. And my attempt to shake those unrequited feelings fails me miserably. I’m flustered, freaking out, unable to think straight. 

_ Holy shit. _

_ Christian Phillips asked me to dinner.  _

Even if Hazel will join us, he still wants to chat and spend time with me. 

A smile creeps over my lips. Perhaps being home again won’t be so bad. I check my Fitbit to catch the time. The class starts in ten minutes and I’m still in my street clothes. 

I’m floating on a cloud as I make a dash for the locker room and speed through a small corridor, frantically rounding the corner. The steam sears my lungs, perspiration moistens my skin and the room resonates with the tranquil sounds of spraying water from a shower stall. Other than whoever is occupying the shower, the locker room seems vacant. When the faucet whines, I follow the sound to a row of empty changing stalls and make a beeline for one, not paying any attention to how fast I’m going.

“Oof.” All the breath escapes my lungs in a rush as I slam into a solid mass.

Firm hands are gripping me securely, and I grab onto it to keep from falling. When my eyes meet a pair of the most gorgeous eyes I’ve seen in my entire life, I can’t stop the gasp from escaping my mouth, but I blame it on the lack of oxygen and the sudden proximity of our bodies being pressed together in a rather intimate embrace. I try to pick up my jaw from the floor as my eyes widen in horror. I would expect to encounter a female in here, seeing as this is the ladies’ locker room, but as luck would have it, the person standing before me is  _ not _ a female at all; he is unfortunately very  _ male. _

_ Of course. _

At first, I’m angered because this man is in the wrong locker room, but luckily, before I lose my shit, it occurs to me, I didn’t see a gender sign plastered on the door because it was wide open when I entered.

_ Fuck. _

I walked into the wrong locker room in my endeavor to make it to class on time and recover from my chat with Christian. 

Perhaps I would’ve been fine with this scenario if this man were average looking, but he is  _ not _ average looking. No, this man is  _ beautiful.  _ In fact, it’s rather unfair how beautiful he is. Droplets of water roll down the sides of his face from a wet, unruly mop of dark hair, leading my eyes to a neatly trimmed beard framing his mouth as he gapes at me with incredulity. I can’t help but notice how perfect his lips are—how perfect his face is. Even the faded scar on his left cheek takes nothing away from his attractiveness and, if anything, makes him devastatingly more appealing than he already is. His striking blue eyes seem to pierce my soul and I find it difficult to breathe when he’s staring at me the way he is right now. I’m vaguely aware of the hand still holding my arm while his other one is protectively pressed to the small of my back to prevent me from falling on my ass, as though it somehow makes the situation less embarrassing. I’m also vaguely aware of my hands squeezing his biceps in a vice-like grip.

Once the initial shock passes, he blinks back to reality, a suggestive smirk curving his lips. “Well, hi there.” 

His voice is smooth like butter, and I tremble at the way it seems to penetrate my ears, the way it slides down my spine and reaches my toes. 

_ Good lord.  _

Even his voice is hot.

His words break the spell of the trance I’m in and I briefly screw my eyes shut in mortification, but somehow, not regret. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” I muster weakly, my voice, unfortunately, giving out on me. Twisting my body from his hold, I pull away from him, my eyes drinking him in as I shiver from the loss of his warmth. 

He’s young, probably in his mid-twenties, he’s tall and very well built, with broad shoulders, washboard abs and solid, corded muscle in his arms, his sun-kissed skin glistening from the shower. On their own accord, my eyes can’t seem to resist following the beads of water streaming down his perfectly chiseled chest and over his stomach, guiding my eyes over a thin, dark trail below his belly button. 

_ Holy hell,  _ he has that well defined V cut, which leads from his hips and points below his waist. These sex lines, or whatever you call them, are supposed to disappear underneath his towel, but they’re leading my eyes lower and lower until I reach his…

My eyes snap up, catching the lopsided grin on his face, which shows off a dimple at each corner of his mouth, as though to say,  _ you like what you see, huh?  _

And of course, I do...

_ Crap, he’s caught me staring.  _

I blink several times, trying to recover by scowling, but he’s still standing there as though everything is completely normal, even though it’s not. Perhaps he’s unaware of his  _ situation.  _

I reach for my hair and wrap a few strands around my finger, my throat as dry as sandpaper. “Ahem,” I manage to clear my throat, and without looking at him directly, I angle my head toward his manhood, which is  _ very _ exposed. During our collision, his towel had fallen from his hips and is now on the floor, pooled at his feet.

Confusion etches his dangerously attractive face as he follows the tilt of my head and peers down at himself. “Oh, fuck.” He bends over to pick up the towel, replacing it around his hips. He doesn’t seem overly embarrassed, and certainly doesn’t have a reason to be,  _ the bastard. _ Perhaps the towel falling wasn’t entirely accidental or unnoticed. His cheeks turn a darker shade of red, though, which is adorable if I’m being honest. “Maybe this is a dumb question, but you do realize this is the  _ men’s _ locker room, right?”

I flash him a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, I’m very much aware. That’s what the apology was for.”

The confusion on his face only deepens. “Oh, I thought you were apologizing for crashing into me.”

“I was, but also for being in the men’s locker room in the first place,” I mutter in irritation, assuming what I was apologizing for was obvious. 

He chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “Well, you should probably watch where you’re going next time. Not that all men mind female intruders in the locker rooms... in fact, some of us welcome it,” he adds with a flirty wag of his eyebrows, which makes my heart do a little flip-flop, “but the sights you’ll see in here may not  _ all _ be so pleasant.”

“Right. I’ll remember that the next time I decide to run into the men’s room.” My words are dripping with sass as I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the knots in my stomach. But he’s standing there all cocky in nothing but a towel and staring at me with those ridiculously gorgeous blue eyes while I’m completely winded and mortified. It’s all too much for me to handle at once, so I spin around, dashing out of the men’s locker room like my heels are on fire.

_ What an arrogant bastard!  _

Cursing under my breath, I find the correct locker room, frantically change into my athletic clothes and pile my long, sandy blonde curls into a messy bun. 

He’s a  _ hot, _ arrogant bastard, but an arrogant bastard nonetheless.

When Hazel arrives and changes into her Zumba outfit, I can’t wait to tell her about my run-in with the arrogant bastard in the locker room.

“You went into the men’s locker room?!”

“Shhh, keep it down,” I shush her as I look behind us, thankful to see nobody has entered the room. I sigh in relief.

“Sorry,” Hazel whispers, but the amusement in her eyes and the smile she’s donning tells a different story. She pulls up her rich auburn hair into a high ponytail and we make our way upstairs to Zumba class, her arm linked with mine.

“The worst part about it was…” I murmur, leaning closer to her so no one can overhear, “his towel fell to the floor when I ran into him.”

Hazel explodes with laughter, despite my desire to not make a scene. I’m surprised she’s not rolling on the floor. “Oh my god, that’s the best news I’ve heard all year! I wish I had seen the look on your face!” A wicked smirk pulls at her lips as the laughter ceases in her throat. “Better yet, I wish that happened to me instead.”

“You mean the look I had on my face when I died of humiliation? Believe me, I would have gladly traded places with you.” My statement is more or less a lie. Okay,  _ definitely _ a lie.

“Oh, come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.” Hazel leans in, speaking in a more appropriate volume. “So, tell me… how  _ big _ was he?” 

I’m certain she’s not inquiring about his overall body circumference.

I’m also certain my face is redder than her hair as I open my mouth to reply. “He’s…” I pause, though it’s not because I can’t remember how big he is, because,  _ boy, _ I definitely can. The image of him will be a permanent fixture in my mind from now on. “He’s decent,” I answer modestly.  _ Decent _ is an insult for this guy because  _ decent  _ doesn’t begin to adequately describe him... or his manhood.

“Decent as in average… or decent as in bigger than average?”

A telling smile creeps over my lips. I don’t respond with words, but the look on my face hopefully says it all.

Hazel smirks and thankfully accepts my answer, putting the topic to rest by the time we reach the class. “See? There was no reason to rush. The class hasn’t even started,” she remarks when we enter a room with a large group of people waiting for class to begin.

“Yes, but it could have. Then everyone would’ve been staring at us for interrupting the class.”

“Well, it hasn’t, so just relax,” Hazel says as we deposit our things near the back wall. She grabs my hand and pulls me to the front and center of the room, to which I groan in disapproval, but I let her drag me, anyway. “Did you see Christian?” she asks curiously as we begin our stretches. 

I don’t respond immediately, but I’m afraid the smile overtaking my face is a dead giveaway. “He suggested the three of us go out to dinner at Seaside.”

“Hey, that’s progress, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” I survey the room, and the instructor doesn’t appear to be present. “So, why are we here?”

Hazel shrugs. “I know the instructor, and he invited me. I didn’t really see the harm. It’s supposed to be fun.”

Of course Hazel came for the instructor. Why would I think any differently? I raise a brow. “How do you know him?”

“He’s Christian’s roommate and one of my regulars at the salon. His name is Derrick, and—”

I pause from my stretches. “Wait, back up. He’s Christian’s roommate?”

“Yep. That’s how we met. When Christian introduced us about six months ago, he mentioned I owned a salon, so ever since then, Derrick’s been coming in once a month without fail. He asks for me every time because he says no one styles his hair and trims his beard as I do. He also tips me thirty percent after every cut, so when he asked me to attend his Zumba class, I felt obligated to check it out.”

I nod and smile knowingly as I resume stretching, even though I don’t completely believe her. I can always tell when Hazel’s lying or prevaricating. “Hmmm…”

Hazel knits her eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

I want to tell her the most obvious detail I’ve gathered from her story, but I decide not to. This guy has it bad for her. Maybe she’ll figure it out on her own, eventually. Maybe she won’t even care that he likes her, or even bat an eyelash. I feel sorry for this guy already, and I don’t even know him. Hazel hasn’t mentioned him at all in the past six months, not over the phone or through text, and that’s saying something. Hazel is never shy about telling me anything—anything that’s important to her at least.

The room is buzzing with pleasant chatter as silence falls over me and Hazel. A moment later, the entire room falls silent and I look up from my stretching position to see what has drawn everyone’s attention. Or rather,  _ who. _

I glance toward the door and do a double-take, my eyes almost popping out of their sockets. 

The class is full of females, so it makes sense that when a man enters the room, he steals their attention.  _ But _ he’s not just  _ any _ man. He’s the man from the locker room! Except, this time he’s dressed in a pair of black shorts and a red tank top, showing off those glorious shoulders and arms.

_ Fuck. _

I had my doubts about attending this class when Hazel invited me, and I decided to give it a shot, but now the idea of dashing out of the room is very appealing.

His eyes land on my friend, thankfully, as he stands in front of us. “Hey, you made it.” 

I can’t help but notice how his eyes light up when he sees her.

“I told you I would.”

_ Wait. This is Hazel’s first time attending this class, so... how do they know each other?  _

It’s a small town, though, so I shouldn’t be surprised. 

She gestures to me, directing his attention to where I’m standing, and I feel like I’m about to burst into flames. “And I brought a friend.”

His smile widens, eyes buzzing with amusement when he looks at me. “This is your friend?”

Hazel nods and glances between the two of us. “Yeah, this is Elisa. Elisa, this is Derrick, the guy I told you about.” 

_ What? _

_ Oh, no. _

My eyes widen in horror when I realize Derrick is our instructor. This guy, the  _ same _ guy I almost bulldozed in the locker room and saw bare ass naked, is our instructor! 

Well, now I know how his hair and beard get so neatly trimmed.

I’ve never been much of a churchgoer, but at this moment I’m praying to whatever higher power there is, the hardwood floor opens up and swallows me whole. Otherwise, I might die a slow, embarrassing death right here where I stand. 

How am I going to make it through the next hour with this guy as our instructor? 

He extends his hand as I try to pick my jaw up off the floor once again today. “Hi, Elisa. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greets me in an embellished tone, his stupid grin never fading.

I’m sure he’s intentionally trying to get under my skin.

My cheeks are burning as I slip my hand in his. The sparks from his touch shock me into the next world, and my skin tingles all the way to my toes. This is the second time this man has made me tremble today and I’ve been around him for merely three minutes. “You too.” My words are raspy and weak as he shakes my hand and winks at me. I hate how my voice has betrayed me. I hate it even more than I hate how arrogant he is. I refrain from rolling my eyes.

He releases my hand, and I’m already missing his touch as he turns around and moves to the front of the classroom. 

“All right, let’s get started.” Once the Latin music pours from the speakers, Derrick faces the mirror at the front of the room and speaks over the music. “If this is your first time, there are only two rules to remember here— _ one, _ leave enough space around you to avoid bumping into each other, and  _ two, _ follow my lead.” 

He starts the class off with an easy warm-up, and we fall into step with him. I wasn’t sure I would like Zumba, but once I get into the rhythm of the music, I pick up the moves easily and actually enjoy myself. It’s not really difficult when I have the perfect view in front of me, one I have no choice but to watch and follow. However, it’s a little difficult to concentrate on the dance moves when my eyes keep gravitating to Derrick’s perfect butt. I’m wishing I’d seen that part of him naked, too. Needless to say, I have to snap out of my Derrick-induced trance more than once. 

Hazel seems to enjoy the class too, even though she keeps falling out of step and laughing at herself. 

The class lasts for an hour before Derrick dismisses us. Wiping the beads of sweat from my forehead, I take a sip from my water bottle, waiting for my heartbeat to slow. I never knew what a workout Zumba would be. I always thought it was an excuse for women to shake their asses, but I was wrong. It’s very intense, but also very fun. 

Derrick walks toward us as the group files out of the room.

I want to either run or hide, panic rushing through me. Did he catch me staring at his butt? 

“Great work, ladies.” He smiles at both of us. “Elisa, you nailed every move. Have you taken Zumba before?”

Hazel answers for me as she fans her face, trying to catch her breath. I feel the need to cool myself off as well, though not for the same reason. “Oh, this is nothing to her. She used to be a prima ballerina.”

_ Hazel, what are you doing?! _

I could strangle her for telling him that. 

Derrick’s eyes flicker with curiosity. “Really? So, you’re a natural, then?”

I’m close to dissolving into a puddle at how interested he is, either that or crawl into a hole. I casually shrug my shoulders. “It’s just a fun workout. There’s nothing really complicated about it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hazel retorts, still fanning herself. “That shit’s hard. I’m not in good enough shape for this.”

“So, you think Zumba is easy?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

I nod, sensing a challenge coming on. “Ballet is hard. This doesn’t compare.”

“Well, Elisa, you haven’t seen anything yet. I guess I need to step the routine up a notch next time.”

I emit a slight laugh. “You can step it up all you want. It will still be easy for me.”

Derrick folds his arms over his chest and steps closer. I lose a breath at how close he is. I can smell his spicy cologne and earthy masculine scent radiating off him. My skin warms even more than it did from the workout. He’s nodding, but I’m guessing it’s not because he agrees with me. “We’ll see about that.” 

A confident smile blooms over my lips, despite how weak I feel under his gaze. “You’re on.”

“I’ll see you back here on Wednesday, then.” He grabs his duffle bag and walks toward the door before turning around to glance between me and Hazel. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.” As he bids us farewell, he winks at me one last time before leaving the room. 

My cheeks are burning.

_ I could kill Hazel.  _

She’s all but jumping up and down in excitement. “Ooooh, he likes you, Elisa.” She’s practically singing  _ Elisa and Derrick sitting in a tree... _

I scowl at her as we leave the room. “Why did you tell him I was a ballerina?” I say  _ was, _ but _ once a ballerina, always a ballerina. _

Hazel shrugs in confusion. “I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret. Sorry.”

I sigh in exasperation. “I just don’t want to spread that around to everyone and have to explain why I’m no longer a dancer.”

“Okay, I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”

“Thank you.” I consider telling her Derrick is the naked guy from the locker room. On second thought, it might be better if Hazel doesn’t find out about that tiny detail… or rather,  _ big _ detail. If she knows Derrick is the guy from the locker room and knows he’s also pining for her, she will definitely take advantage of this knowledge. 

I don’t know if Derrick is the type of guy who’s into one-night stands, but that’s exactly who he would be to Hazel. This makes my heart constrict. I’m not sure why, though. I don’t even know Derrick. Even if Hazel still wasn’t interested in him, which would be highly unlikely, she’d have a field day at my expense, making it her mission to set me up with him. But I already have my eyes on someone else—and I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night. 

I don’t need to add Derrick to my one-man list of crushes. Even if the arrogant bastard is too hot for his own good.


	3. Chapter Two

##  CHAPTER TWO

###  **Elisa**

I enter Seaside Diner the next day, twirling the tail of my long, single braid around my finger—it’s something I do out of habit when I’m nervous. Today I’ve been playing with my hair nonstop, hence the braid. 

I don’t even know the last time I was this nervous, other than auditioning for the biggest role of my dancing career. I’ve known Christian for sixteen years, but it’s not like we’ve ever been close friends. We’re barely acquaintances. In fact, I’m still bewildered by his invitation to have dinner with him at Seaside, even if he asked Hazel to join us.

“Elly, over here,” Hazel shouts across the diner. 

Today, I’m the one who’s late. I was too fickle in deciding what to wear, and it took me forever to finally choose an outfit. I finally settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a black NYC ballet t-shirt, not wanting to seem like I was trying to impress anyone by dressing up. 

My eyes roam toward the back of the diner to see Hazel waving me over. I stop playing with my hair and flip my braid behind my shoulder so I’m not tempted to, even though my stomach is still twitching with nerves. I swallow thickly and make my way to the booth she and Christian are sitting in. His eyes fall on me and he offers a small smile as I reach the table. 

“Hey, Elly,” he addresses me, as though we’re best friends.

I’m not sure why, but when he uses the same nickname Hazel has always used, it tugs at my belly. “Hi,” I return shyly and slide into the booth next to Hazel. I notice she has already ordered my usual drink—Cherry Coke. I can tell by the cherry garnish resting on the rim of the glass. “Cherry Coke? How do you know I didn’t switch to water or Diet Cherry Coke?” I tease with a grin. “Maybe I’m watching my figure.” A normal guy would’ve retorted with something like, _ I’ll watch your figure for you, _ but not Christian. He’s difficult to read and doesn’t even crack a smile. I should probably take this as a sign he still only sees me as his cousin’s best friend. 

She laughs. “Oh, please. The Elly I know would never give up Cherry Coke, or settle for the crappy, diet version.” 

This is Hazel’s way of calling me predictable. I don’t know whether I should take it as an insult or if I should just be thankful to have a friend like Hazel who knows me so well.

“Besides, you’ve never cared about watching your figure, and yet you’ve always been skinny.”

“I have a high metabolism because I’m a dancer,” I say defensively. “It’s not like I maintain my figure by sitting on my butt all the time.” 

“I know,” Hazel laughs. “I had to mess with you because you said you might have wanted something other than Cherry Coke. As if that would ever happen.”

I shrug and take a sip from my drink, smiling around the straw. She’s right, that would never happen. I’m pretty set in my ways and my tastes.

“So, how does it feel to be back home again?” Christian asks with genuine curiosity.

“It’s nice. I’ve missed everyone, and my dad is glad to have me home.”

“He’s missed you, too,” Hazel says. She no longer lives across the street from him, but it’s a small town. It’s easy to run into people you know here.

_ “We’ve _ missed you.”

I can’t believe the words that just left Christian’s mouth. Did he just say he missed me? My mouth opens to speak, but I’m not sure how to respond at first. Actually, I am, but I need a minute to form the words. I swipe my braid over my left shoulder and start twirling the end of it around my finger again. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until Hazel subtly nudges me. She hates when people toy with their hair. I release my braid and try to ignore the nervous pangs in my stomach. “I’ve missed you, too,” I reply, glancing between them, so I don’t leave Hazel out. Truthfully, I’ve missed her much more because of how close we are. 

“How is Ethan doing?” Christian asks me.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen my brother, but I update Christian and Hazel on Ethan based on my recent phone conversation with him, informing them how med school is going and that his wife and daughter are doing well. 

“So, tell me, what have I missed while I was gone?” I ask them.

As they fill me in on everything going on in their lives, the waitress who I learn is Sally, based on her name tag and because Hazel and Christian greet her by name, comes over to take our orders. As regular customers, they know her well. I also learn she’s a single mom with two kids because she’s showing off pictures of them on her phone. I never understood why people showed off photos of their children, especially to strangers. I didn’t understand this incessant need until I became an aunt. I swear my niece is the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen. I might be a little biased though. 

The three of them engage in casual chit chat while I decide what to order. I’m playing with my hair again and I’m so nervous I don’t even know if I can stomach anything at the moment, but I barely ate today and I’m starving. I could get one of the recent additions to the menu, but I stick with my favorite—coconut shrimp and hush puppies. Yep, I’m way too predictable. 

After the waitress leaves our table, Christian focuses his eyes somewhere behind me, and he shoots up his hand, waving someone over.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

I’m about to turn around in my seat to see who Christian is speaking to when I hear a familiar voice.

“Not much, just stopped in to get some takeout and go home and relax.”

My mouth gapes when I hear the same voice that always seems to reverberate through me when I hear it.

Derrick reaches our table, and I look the other way, trying to avoid him. It’s bad enough the man across from me makes me nervous, but now the hot guy I’ve seen naked is standing next to me.

“Elisa, this is my roommate, Derrick. Derrick, this is Elisa. She just moved here from New York.”

I turn my head to look at him, and our eyes meet. His baby blues seem to brighten when he looks at me. 

_ Good God. _

He’s wearing simple clothing, but each article highlights a different part of that delicious body he’s hiding underneath. I swear his black V-neck shirt was painted on him as the material clings to his ridiculously rock-hard stomach. And those snug-fitting blue jeans accentuate his strong thighs and… other parts of him. But let me tell you, those jeans don’t quite do him justice. And I would know.

A smile creeps over his lips.

I’m staring again.

“You seem familiar,” he teases, his eyes narrowing at me as though he’s trying to remember where he’s seen me. But he knows exactly where. He definitely knows. After a few seconds, he wags his finger at me. “Ah, yes, you’re the former ballerina who thinks Zumba is not really dancing.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re taking his class. Hey, don’t feel bad, Elly, I don’t even know what Zumba is.”

Is Christian defending me? I’m too shocked to respond.

“Elly…” My nickname rolls off Derrick’s tongue, sending shivers down my spine as he nods in approval. “I like it.” As if Christian needs his approval to call me that.

I abstain from rolling my eyes.

“Do you wanna join us?” Christian asks him.

I’m praying Derrick says no.

He blushes and scratches behind his ear as he glances between me and Hazel, studying our reactions to determine whether he should. Hazel seems indifferent, and I hope my face is expressing my disdain toward the idea. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

_ Thank God.  _

I refrain from sighing in relief.

Hazel waves off his words. “Oh, please, you wouldn’t be intruding. We’re just having a small reunion dinner to celebrate Elly’s homecoming.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods and studies me with a damn twinkle in his eye. “So, you grew up here?”

“Yep, born and raised.” My words are clipped as I toss him a fake smile.

“So, what brings you back?”

“It’s a long story,” I reply flatly.

“Well, that’s convenient, actually, because I have all the time in the world.” He gestures to Christian’s seat. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Cop a squat.” Christian slides to the other end of the booth, waving the waitress over. “Do you know what you want, or do you need time to look over the menu?”

Derrick sits across from me, and I look away to hide how flushed I am as my pulse quickens. “Nah, I’m just getting my usual.”

Sally returns, greeting him cheerfully and chatting him up before taking his order.

When the waitress is gone, he grins as our eyes meet again. “So, tell me your story, Elly.”

I sigh and take a sip of my drink, not really wanting to dive into all the reasons that drove me back to Waterville. But with both men staring intently, waiting for me to divulge everything, it’s hard to resist.

So I tell them the shortened version of the story. “I injured my ankle, and I haven’t been able to dance the same since, so I returned home.”

Derrick seems disappointed. “That’s it? I thought you said it was a long story.”

“There’s more to it than that, but basically that’s what happened.” I feel upset now. The story about how I failed at being the dancer I wanted to be for my mother is very personal. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Thankfully, Derrick puts up his hands in surrender, his eyes flickering with apology. “Okay, I got it. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a sensitive topic for me.”

He nods in understanding and silence falls over us as Sally brings Derrick his soda.

“So, why don’t you tell me something?” I ask Derrick after the waitress leaves our table again.

He shrugs. “What do you want to know?”

I purse my lips as I consider my answer. “Brooks Brothers Gym—Hazel mentioned you were the owner… so, where’s the other Brooks brother?”

“Right now? He’s working. We share the responsibilities. Mason mostly takes care of the books and I handle the marketing and coordinate and teach the classes.”

“And what made you two open up the gym?” I ask. From the corner of my eye, I notice Hazel and Christian watching the two of us go back and forth. I also notice I’m not playing with my hair anymore. I somehow feel calmer around Derrick. When he’s not all wet and naked of course. 

“It’s a long story,” Derrick replies as he raps on the glass in his hand with his thumb, using the same excuse I’d used to deflect his question.

“That’s okay. I have all the time in the world.” I recline back in my seat, crossing my arms.

His eyes darken, and I can tell it’s a sensitive subject for him. Either that or he’s paying me back for my curt answer from before. “It’s a delicate topic.”

Our food arrives, and we change the topic to something lighter. The three of them discuss their jobs, but I can only listen and comment since I’m unemployed at the moment.

“Have you decided on what to do for work while you’re here?” Hazel asks me.

I shrug. “I’m not sure yet. I just got into town yesterday and haven’t checked the classifieds. And yes, I still search through job ads in the newspaper rather than the internet,” I say to derail any judgmental comments or looks. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Hazel claims, but I can tell she’s holding her tongue. “You may find more postings on Indeed, though.” 

_ And there it is. _

The guys, however, dig into their food in artless indifference.

“The agency is hiring a new receptionist if you’re interested in learning about insurance,” Christian offers, scooping a bite of his fried fish on his fork as he glances up at me.

Working with him sounds appealing, I will admit. “I have no interest in insurance, but thanks for the offer.”

“You could go to beauty school and work for me,” Hazel suggests.

I laugh and pick up a coconut shrimp from my plate, immersing it into my pineapple coconut sauce. “Have you forgotten about the time I tried to cut my own hair?” I take a bite of the shrimp and lick my lips, enjoying the crispy breading, the tropical flavors on my tongue and the way the shrimp slides down my throat.

“Yeah, but that was what, thirteen years ago? After some training, I’m sure you would be much better at it.” Hazel looks at me, her eyes drifting to the braid splayed over my shoulder, and she takes the tips between her fingers. “Speaking of hair, you should make an appointment with me and I’ll get rid of these split ends for you.” She winks at me. “Because you’re my girl, I’ll give you a discount.”

Glaring at her for pointing out my split ends in front of these two men sitting across from us, one who is ruggedly handsome and one who is drop-dead gorgeous, I pull my braid from her hold and flip it to the other side. 

“You could teach a dance class at the gym?” 

Derrick’s suggestion takes me by surprise for two reasons. One, because Hazel had driven the conversation off track and two, because I wasn’t expecting the offer.

My mouth opens to answer, but I’m not sure what to say. It’s not an awful idea, but I’m uncertain whether I’m ready to get back into dancing regularly. Even if Zumba isn’t actually dancing. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not? It may not be dancing,” he says sarcastically, “but it involves teaching choreography. You can handle that, right?”

“Of course I can. I’ll think about it. I just moved back here and I’m staying with my dad for the time being, but I want to find a place of my own soon. That’s at the top of my list right now. Once I’m settled into an apartment, I’ll consider the job.”

“Fair enough. I hope you’ll accept my offer, though.”

We finish our meals and all four of us argue about who’s paying the bill until Derrick pulls out his credit card and hands it to Sally. 

“Dinner’s on me since you were all so kind as to invite me to join you,” he says, staring at me directly as he throws me a wink. 

I’m filled with regret because I was the only one against it, even if I didn’t voice my opinion on the issue. 

“Thanks, man,” Christian pats Derrick’s shoulder, and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, forking out some cash for Sally’s tip and throwing it on the table.

Once Sally returns with Derrick’s credit card and bids us farewell, Hazel and I thank the guys as the four of us get up and leave.

I hug Hazel outside the diner as we say goodbye and agree to meet up again for lunch tomorrow. 

“Bye, Elly.” To my surprise, Christian pulls me in for a hug, and I all but melt in his arms.

I take a moment to process what’s happening, but by the time I gather my wits and return the hug, he’s already pulling away. I gaze at him in wonderment, twirling the tail of my braid around my finger as he and Hazel walk to his car.

“So, how long have you been in love with Christian?”

Derrick’s question startles me. Is it that obvious? I wasn’t even aware he was standing behind me. “It’s none of your business,” I reply dismissively as I turn around and head for my car. To my dismay, he follows behind me.

“You’re right, it isn’t, but it’s not like I’m going to tell him. I’m just curious.”

I become frustrated and spin around on my heels. He doesn’t expect me to turn around, and crashes into me. I lose a breath when his body is pressed against mine, his hands gripping my arms. My eyes meet his and I swallow thickly, getting lost in his gaze. I have to remember what I was going to say to him before he slammed right into me. “What about you? How long have you been in love with Hazel?” I’m not one hundred percent positive about this, but judging by the look he flashes me, I’m right. 

“How did you know?”

I still can’t breathe; our faces are only a few inches apart and his heartbeat raps against my chest, his breathing mingling with mine. I finally wrench myself from his hold. If I’m to answer his question, his smoldering blue eyes or how warm his body feels pressed against mine can’t distract me. “I wasn’t sure until now. How did  _ you  _ know?”

He chuckles. “Because you get nervous when you’re around him. You do that thing where you play with your hair. It’s rather adorable actually.” 

I feel my cheeks flush, and his smile widens. He must sense I’m embarrassed by his observation. 

“You were doing it while you were trying to tell me my towel was acquainted with the floor in the locker room, you were doing it when I arrived at the booth and you kept doing it every time he spoke to you. You were even doing it when you were watching him walk to his car.”

I glare at him. I hate that he knows my habits already. “You won’t say anything to him?”

He gently shakes his head. “I won’t tell if you won’t say anything to Hazel.”

“I won’t.” I turn around and we head down the sidewalk. “Since he moved in across the street from me,” I finally reply. “I was ten.”

“Wow, that long, huh?”

I fold my lips in, my gut flaring with shame. “Unfortunately.” Why has it been that long? I haven’t even seen him in ten years, and before that, we saw each other sporadically. “Your turn.”

He shrugs and looks away from me, his eyes trained somewhere ahead of us. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. It happened gradually since the first day I stepped into her salon.”

I nod and lower my eyes. “Like how it’s supposed to be?” We reach my car and I turn to face him, catching the confused expression on his face. “Falling in love is supposed to be gradual, not something that happens at first sight.” I peer down at the ground between us. “Am I crazy for not being able to let go of a childhood crush?”

“No, you’re not. You’re human.”

I nod and lift my head, returning my gaze to his. “Or just stupid.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you’re stupid. The heart wants what the heart wants, even if what it wants isn’t good for us.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” I say sadly, offering a frail smile.

Derrick is deep in thought, the appealing features of his face twisting like he’s trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

I raise a brow at him. “What?” 

His eyes meet mine again and he’s regarding me intently. My breath catches in my throat. He really needs to stop looking at me like that. “What if we were to help each other out?”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Easy. You talk me up to Hazel, and I’ll do the same for you. Christian and I may not be best friends like you and Hazel, but he’s in my gym every day. He works out so much, it’s unhealthy.”

We share a laugh at the irony, but I’m a little uncertain about Derrick’s proposal. “I don’t know. Do you really think you can be subtle about it? I don’t want him aware you’re doing it for me.”

His dark eyebrows furrow, and he seems offended. “You have far too much faith in me,” he remarks sarcastically.

I laugh—not because of how adorable he is, but because of how ridiculous all of this is. I feel like I’m in the eighth grade all over again. “Okay, say we do this... what do I tell Hazel? You and I don’t even know each other very well.”

The smirk crossing his lips makes me swallow hard; I’m afraid what his answer will be. “I have one idea. You may not know me very well, but you’ve seen me naked. You could tell Hazel what you witnessed in the men’s locker room.” 

“What makes you think I haven’t already?”

His eyes light up, and the thing he does with his brow when he raises it high, displaying his piqued curiosity, should be illegal. Because it’s making me dizzy and high like he’s drugged me. And it makes my heart flip. 

_ The damn bastard. _

“You did?”

I did what? 

I blink, breaking myself from my reverie.  _ Oh, right. _ I told Hazel about seeing a naked man naked in the locker room. Except she doesn’t know the naked man was Derrick. 

“She’s my best friend, of course I did. I didn’t tell her it was you, though.”

He raises his hands and crooks his fingers, urging me to tell him more. “And? What did you say?”

I plant my hands on my hips, stonewalling his question. I can’t let on how much the evocative image of him haunts me every second of the day or that I imagine how good he would feel inside me. Something tells me that would only stroke his ego, which I’m definitely  _ not _ envisaging. No, I definitely don’t wish to  _ stroke his ego _ . Certainly not. “I told her the truth—that you have a tiny penis.” 

His face pales, and I almost choke on the laugh caught in my throat. This guy is too easy to mess with. “You what?”

“I’m kidding,” I say with a playful simper, lifting my hand to swat his shoulder. 

He sighs in relief. 

“Relax, I told her you were average.”

He frowns at me. “Hey, I am  _ not _ average. I’d just gotten out of the shower and wasn’t my best self… I’m a grower, not a shower.”

“I’m sure,” I smirk. If he’s not a shower, then  _ fuck me sideways  _ because he sure as hell had something to show off when I saw him in the locker room.

He takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us and wags a suggestive brow. 

I forget how to breathe. 

“I’ll prove it if you want me to.” His voice is decadent and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine.

My heart is racing as I open my mouth to speak, but no words form, at first. Warmth floods my cheeks as I step back, averting my gaze from him. “I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer,” I mutter bitterly, my words loaded with sarcasm.

“Well, you could tell her it was me and I could do the same for you with Christian, you know, a tit for tat sort of deal.”

I roll my eyes. I should have known he’d go there. “And how would you do that? You haven’t seen my tits. Believe me, you’d remember if you saw them.”

He smirks knowingly, making me blush under his gaze. Surprisingly, he’s not checking out my chest and instead, locks his eyes with mine as though he already has an image of me permanently etched in his mind. “I wouldn’t bet against you.” My blood sizzles at his words and the hungry stare he’s regarding me with. “You could show me your tits and I’ll tell Christian what a nice rack you have.” 

I gracefully roll my eyes. “I am not showing you my rack.”

He shrugs. “It was worth a shot.” Just when I think he’ll shelf the topic, he strokes his chin, blue eyes buzzing with mischief as his features quirk in rumination. 

I’m afraid to ask what he’s thinking.

“You’re still coming to my class tomorrow, right?”

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Should I?”

He grins. “I have to prove Zumba is hard, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” I sigh. I almost forgot about that. 

He tilts his head, his brows knitted in confusion. “What, you’re not up to the challenge now?”

“I’m up for it,” I assure him.

“Okay, well what do you say we make it more interesting?”

I raise my brow. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“We raise the stakes a bit. If you prove me wrong, I have to do something for you, but if you prove me right, you have to do something for me.”

I fold my arms over my chest, unopposed to the idea. This could be fun, actually. “Sure, why not? Just one question, though… how will you determine whether it’s too difficult for me or if I’m just exhausted and sweaty?”

He purses his lips in consideration. “That’s a good question. How about this—if it’s too difficult, you stop? If it’s not, you keep going… but if I catch you struggling with the steps, you have to stop.”

“Okay, and what do I have to do if I don’t make it through the class?”

He grins big and wide, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Show me your boobs.”

I roll my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. I should’ve known that was coming. This guy is way too predictable. I’m not worried, though. I will not lose. “Fine, but if I win, you have to let me teach you ballet so you can see how difficult it is. Deal?”

“Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He sticks out his hand and we shake on it. 

Something tells me learning ballet isn’t enough of a punishment for him. 

“So tell me, what’s the best way to win Hazel’s heart?”

I snort at the irony of this guy asking how to win Hazel’s heart right after he asked to see my boobs. “You can start by not asking her friends to flash you.”

He blushes deeply and smirks,  _ clearly _ full of regret. “I suppose I deserve that.” 

I nod in agreement.

“Seriously, tell me.” 

“You want the truth?”

“Please. Just give it to me straight. I can take it.”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I sigh. “The best way to win her heart is to be her Yorkshire Terrier. If you’re not Ginger, you don’t stand a chance.”

“Seriously?”

I nod. “Seriously. She doesn’t do relationships. You have less chance of being serious with her than the carton of ice cream in her freezer.”

The way his features fall in disappointment makes my heart tighten. I feel sorry for this guy. “So… you’re saying I’m not her type?”

“I’m saying  _ she’s _ not  _ your  _ type. You may think she is, but trust me, she’s not.”

“Kind of like Christian’s not your type?”

His comment hits me like a ton of bricks, but I can’t change how I feel. Believe me, I wish I could. “The heart wants what the heart wants, even if what it wants isn’t good for us,” I repeat his earlier words.

He nods and offers a slight smile. “Fair enough.” 

I walk around to my Chevy, and as I open my door, he leans against the passenger side, resting his hands on the hood.

“What if we  _ could _ change what our hearts wanted?”

I look at him with a skeptical eye. “And how do you propose we do that?”

He stares at me wistfully, his tongue darting out to trace his lips. I try not to follow the movement with my eyes, but I fail miserably. My eyes definitely enjoy following the movement of his tongue. My eyes enjoy it too much.

_ Elisa, stop staring. _

“What if we slept with each other?”

I open my mouth and clamp it shut again. I think I heard him correctly, but I must be mistaken. Perhaps I was ten feet too deep in my musings to hear him correctly. Perhaps I’m only hearing what I  _ want _ to hear. “What?”

“To get over Christian and Hazel... what if you and I slept together for one night?”

I search his face for some hint or sign indicating he’s joking, but I find nothing of the sort. He appears to be completely serious. 

“After all, they say the best way to get over someone is to—”

“...get under someone else,” I finish his sentence, but I have no intention of going along with this. Don’t get me wrong, the offer is incredibly tempting. This man is gorgeous, but it’s better not to get my heart more entangled than it already is. What if his plan backfires and I fall for Derrick, but I don’t get over Christian? I don’t even know how to get over something that technically doesn’t exist. 

“Exactly. Perhaps a one-night stand will help us realize what we’re missing out on.” 

“I didn’t realize I was missing out on anything,” I say casually, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he flashes a cheeky grin—a grin  _ so _ cheeky, it makes my heart race. Tilting his head, he points at his chest and claims, “That’s because you’ve never been with me.” He says it smugly, his tone dripping with sex and sin. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to test his theory. I’d be the biggest liar on the planet if I said that.

If I weren’t so fuck struck by those alluring words— _ or the suggestive tone he uses. Or his sinful mouth. Or the illegal wag of his brow. Or the way his clothes fit his body so perfectly. Or his dangerous good looks, which might kill a woman dead in her tracks and probably already have. Or his irresistible charm. Or his… everything _ . 

Let me rephrase that—if my thoughts weren’t busy spiraling out of control, I’d slap the goddamn grin off his face. 

“Somehow I doubt it.” 

I’m the biggest liar on the planet.

It’s a  _ terrible _ idea, though.

“Besides, I don’t do one-night stands.” With those words said, I get into my car and start the engine before he can talk me into it. Before I can talk myself into it.

Derrick backs away from the vehicle and waves goodbye, his eyes flickering with apology. I’m not sure who’s more disappointed in my answer—him or me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out the preview! If you would like to continue reading, visit https://radish.app.link/zZt3RuJBg4 for more chapters. The book isn't finished but I will be updating every week.


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